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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25315192">Paint Brush Bristles</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/existentiallyexisting/pseuds/existentiallyexisting'>existentiallyexisting</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Steven Universe (Cartoon)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Crying, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Post-Episode s05e29-32 Change Your Mind, Spoilers for Episode: s05e29-32 Change Your Mind, Steven Universe Future, Steven needs therapy, white diamond - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:40:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,835</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25315192</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/existentiallyexisting/pseuds/existentiallyexisting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Steven is plagued by the nightmares brought forth by the happenings in White’s head that fateful day. He thinks painting it might help.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>49</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Paint Brush Bristles</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Steven tried desperately to try and keep his hand from shaking as he gripped the paint brush between his fingers, dipping the bristles into a mixture of greys and whites and blacks. His canvas was spotted with a maelstrom of grey, white diamond’s skeletal hand amongst the dull backdrop, her black talons dripping with black paint. His quivering hand had resulted in the painting having a messy, blotchy texture. For a moment he thought of how this held some irony, since the memory of her long, sharp fingernails was so crisp in his mind, the experience burned into his conscience with searing intensity.<br/>He wished he could capture the horror he had experienced as White diamond loomed over him, eyes alight with malicious intent, voice dripping with condensation. It was muffled, his ears were ringing from the sickening speed at which she lifted him through the air. Through the cotton in his ears he could hear Connie's last scream of desperation from far, far below, before White Diamond's sharp voice cut through the static.<br/><em>“Its time to come out, Pink”</em><br/>Steven was hit by a wave of nausea. His stomach sturred when he thought about it, and his breath came in short, shallow gasps as he set his paint brush down a little harder then he would have liked and aggressively wiped the tears on his face away with the sleeve of his pink varsity jacket.<br/>“You can stop if you want, you know” Vidalia said, her voice laced with concern. Steven stood in front of a canvas in Vidalias studio. Light seeped in through the slitted windows, gently alighting the room with morning sun. Particles of dust danced in the air, glistening in the light like glitter. Steven turned to face her, lips parted slightly as he attempted to fill his lungs. His chest felt tight and suffocating as he swallowed the lump in his throat.<br/>“No, I want to finish this. I just -” Steven choked on his sentence for a second. He let out a weak chuckle as he looked over his painting. He couldn't quite get the maniacal ascendency of her cadaverous fingers. His painting didn’t show the alarming sharpness of her fingernails, which towered over him as five giant weapons with the tendency for mutilation. The whites and greys created an image of a hand, a mediocre one at best. Although, even if Steven had been the most spectacular artist in Delmarva, there was no way to capture the helplessness and fear that he felt in that moment.<br/>He wasn’t the best artist, after all. Music was more his strong suit.<br/>“I can’t get her palm right,” Steven said to Vidalia, who was looking at him sympathetically. She was surprised when Steven came to her with the request. Vidalia had been doing classes at Little Homeschool, which normally consisted of several different gems, splattering colors over canvases with enthusiasm and no goal in particular. Steven would stop by at times and dabble in paints with the newly uncorrupted gems occasionally, but mostly just to be encouraging and show that he cared. He was rather busy, after all. When Steven had come to her, nervously, several weeks ago, to request a ‘private session,’ Vidalia was rather taken aback, especially when he shared his reasoning.<br/><em>“I keep having nightmares,”</em> He said, looking down at his feet. He held his arms tightly against his body.<em> “I just want them to go away and I’ve been looking stuff up and some online forums said that painting it might help.”</em><br/>Vidalia knew, vaguely, of the trials that Steven had to go through when he was younger. She remembered when the green hand ship had everyone in beach city in a fritz. She remembered when Onion went missing, and how horrible that had been, and how it had wrecked horrible consequences on her family and her psyche, throwing her into a manic desperation as she prayed for her son back. Her son, kidnapped by enemy gems! It was too awful for her to begin to describe.<br/>Onion returned several days later, thank the stars. However, She remembered how soon after Onion had been returned to her, Steven had been ripped away as well.<br/><em>“Stevens gone,”</em> Greg had told her, eyes red and brimming with tears. He choked on his breath as he struggled to inform her why Steven wasn’t with him at the car wash that day.<br/><em>“They took him and I don’t know what to do.”</em><br/>However, she had never put much thought into how it could have affected him. He had always seemed so happy all the time when he was younger, but now she couldn’t help but place some blame on herself as he stood before her: A 16 year-old boy, his back heavy with undue burdens. Stress lines permanently marked his face from years of emotional servitude, intergalactic diplomacy, and war. She observed him for a moment and her heart clenched with fondness and sympathy. His face was flushed with emotion, his brows furrowed in concentration as he looked over the painting he had been struggling with for the past hour. Long, salty streaks decorated his cheeks from the tears he had let slip, despite his best efforts. Vidalia wanted so desperately to comfort him. Her motherly instincts demanded this of her as she watched him attempt, pitifully, to steady his shaking hands before dipping his brush back onto his palette.<br/>“It doesn’t have to be Picasso. It’s your truth and that’s what matters, Steven.” She said, trying her best to encapsulate her earnesty in their eye contact. Steven looked back at her, brown eyes catching the midday sun that bounced off of the surfaces in the garage, creating a honey colored glow in his irises. He smiled weakly.<br/>“Thanks Vidalia. I really needed this. I haven’t exactly spoken to the gems about it, so it means a lot.” Steven said. He wanted to talk to the gems about it. He really did. But he was scared. He had done so much backbreaking work to dismantle the empire. He had sat through endless meetings filled with exhausting discussions of diplomacy and political organization. He constantly had to correct the Diamonds on concepts of basic civil rights to a frustrating degree. He visited hundreds of Planets, spreading word of peace and democracy. It was exhausting, and having to speak to White Diamond as if she hadn’t nearly killed him two years ago did not help his psyche when off planet and alone. Connie tried her best to join him on diplomatic missions that involved one-on-one interactions with the colossal gem, but she was busy too. Studying demanded much of her time, and Steven understood that.<br/>If Steven told the crystal gems about what happened in Whites head, who <em>knows</em> what could happen. They were always so concerned about his well being and hearing about his near-death experience could result in the kind of dramatic reaction that could threaten the fragile stability he had worked so tirelessly to achieve. For all he knew, they could forbid him from talking to White Diamond all together! And that was out of the question. So, he decided to keep quiet.<br/>Keeping quiet didn’t stop the nightmares though.<br/>“Of course Steven. If you ever need someone to talk to about this stuff you can always talk to me,” Vidalia said softly, placing a hand tenderly on Steven’s shoulder. At this action, Steven’s chest immediately constricted with emotion. It was a simple, polite gesture of reassurance. But Steven couldn’t help but think about how he wished he could go to his family for this kind of support, and how he hadn’t felt as though he could go to his family for comfort due to the overbearing pressures of the empire. He wanted someone to console him when he awoke in a cold sweat, sucking lungfuls of air as he blinked flashes of the memory from his eyes, tears gathering on his lower lashes. He wanted someone to tell him that it was okay that he was afraid, and that it was okay that he hated her.<br/>And oh, he hated her so much, with every fiber of his being.<br/>He hated her when they spoke of the tribulations and intricacies of human democracy. He hated her when she continuously guilt tripped him for not “visiting” her enough, as if she had any right to demand this of him after what she had done. He hated her when he sobbed alone in the early hours of the morning, plagued by the haunting memories of her atrocities, gripping his skin so tightly that it left marks.<br/>Steven looked into Vidalias sympathetic gaze, and opened his quivering lips to reply, looking for something normal to say in this situation, but for at least a few seconds, no words came. And then soon thereafter, a sob broke from his throat, and fat tears began to roll down his cheeks. Somewhere in his forethought he considered how this show of emotion was a bit uncalled for. He hardly knew Vidalia after all. She was Amethyst’s and Greg's friend, and Onion’s mom. His relationship with her was defined by other people, and though he perceived her fondly, they were acquaintances at best. But as Vidalia wrapped her arms around him and captured him in a motherly embrace, he didn’t care in the slightest. His heart was heavy with the traumatic memories of his childhood, and the giant, blistering welt of stress and baggage and misery broke as he clung desperately to Vidalias sweater, crying into the crook of her neck.<br/>Vidalia couldn’t do anything except rub comforting circles into the small of his back and whisper soft assurances in his ear as she swallowed down the lump in her throat, her chest aching with condolence. Steven was only a child after all. It wasn’t fair that he was the one who had to end the intergalactic war. It wasn’t fair that he had more responsibilities and weight on his shoulders than anyone Vidalia had ever known. And it wasn’t fair that Steven had felt as though he couldn’t go to his family about something so substantial and awful that he had experienced when he was only 14. Vidalia couldn’t help but feel some hopelessness about what she could possibly say to alleviate the pain of a boy who had seen the end of the world.<br/>Thus, all Vidalia could do was hold him as he sobbed. He shook as his cries racked his body, his face contorted with emotion as he pressed up against her. He grasped her shirt so tightly that his knuckles turned white and his hands shook.<br/>Vidalia wished that she could do more for Steven in this moment, but little to her knowledge, Steven was ultimately grateful for the solace she had provided him, and when he left her studio that day his heart felt comfortably lighter.<br/>That night, for the first time in months, he fell into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It’s my first fic so b nice pweas also how do u do italics or indent paragraphs on this website I am confusion</p></blockquote></div></div>
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